


i thought that we'd make it (because you said that we'd make it through)

by atsuken



Series: regret has made a home on the roof of my mouth [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Light Angst, M/M, bokuto kuroo hinata atsumu oikawa are only mentioned, idk what else to put?, question mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27346315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsuken/pseuds/atsuken
Summary: Kenma was once the brain of Nekoma, who shut down so many techniques against his team and is a big part of his team's success. With Akaashi, he is reduced to a high-strung amygdala, shame and rationality filtered and turned into a puddle under his feet.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: regret has made a home on the roof of my mouth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025572
Comments: 18
Kudos: 24





	i thought that we'd make it (because you said that we'd make it through)

Kenma weighed the pros and cons thoroughly before arriving at his decision, even taking a day off of streaming to deliberately prepare himself with whatever happens to him. Here, in this loud club with blaring lights of different colors attempting to blind him early into his career, he stands with all his unwavering certainty that he shouldn’t have come, despite Tetsurou’s valid points and Shoyo’s incessant whining. Shoyo’s birthday happened every year anyway; there was no reason to attend this one and the three previous ones if he could just send him his gift as usual.

“Don’t act so shy now,” He gulps when he hears him, further curling in himself at the corner, looking everywhere but at Akaashi. “It’s not like we haven’t known each other since forever.”

Kenma takes one sip, letting the sting burn his throat before croaking, “I’m trying to think of what to say to someone who,” He spares a glance at Akaashi, taking in the way his glasses slowly slide down before settling with his choice of words. “Knows a lot about me.”

Akaashi chuckles, but Kenma would not be the brain of Nekoma years ago if he didn’t see him grip his glass a little tighter. “I know a lot about you still?”

He takes another sip. “Just enough.”

“Hm,” There’s amusement in Akaashi’s tone that Kenma can’t quite get a hold on, granted they spent three years together in each other’s embrace and the promise of seeing through until the very end. “I see.”

Kenma is bad at promises. Akaashi was better at it, but not with promises made with him.

“I was thinking you’re regretting being here,” Akaashi begins, stepping closer in Kenma’s space when one of Shoyo’s teammates passes behind him, and Kenma is forced to stick his back against the wall. “I haven’t seen you at Hinata’s birthday parties for years now. Surely there’s no reason for you to attend this one, am I right?”

Kenma looks away, letting blue lights temporarily blind him. The condensation of his drink starts to bug him and he’s one insufferable conversation away from dragging Tetsurou away from Oikawa and Atsumu to take him home.

He doesn’t move, however. In his peripheral, Akaashi is staring at him like he’ll disappear when he blinks.

“Kozume.” He whips his head fast enough to see the shock in Akaashi’s eyes, glasses now fully sitting at the tip of his nose. “Are we going to end up like this forever?”

 _Forever_. “Like what?” He spats. He almost quirks his lip up when he sees the faintest flinch from Akaashi.

“Just,” Akaashi pushes his glasses up before exhaling, gesturing weakly between them with his free hand.

They don’t speak after that, letting the loud music dance in the arm length distance in between them the same way Akaashi’s city pop playlist used to do when he’s chasing a deadline while Kenma plays through a newly bought game. In those comfortable silences, he used to think they were invincible. In their cooperatively crafted little bubble of peace, he was convinced they didn’t have a finish line.

The heavy bass of the new song Tetsurou successfully orders the hired DJ to play shakes him out of the melancholy his memories brought. Kenma remembers where he is, his red hoodie and ragged jeans dimmed by the light and the bustling atmosphere. Nobody pays attention to the dilemma he’s facing, and he’s left to deal with it in his personal space bubble. Exactly like the old days.

 _Except it’s not_ , he thinks as he kicks the air lightly, still not looking at Akaashi who’s keeping himself entertained by blinking at whoever and whatever his eyes land on.

Kenma downs his drink and decides with his inebriated but still unwavering certainty that whatever happens at this point is his future self’s problem.

Before he regrets opening his mouth to tell Akaashi to go find someone else to bother, Akaashi moves to lean on the wall adjacent to his, and Kenma makes sure to scoot away to leave some space for him to breathe.

“You still know a lot about me, also,” The edges of Kenma’s vision starts to spin when Akaashi speaks again, and he doesn’t know what or who to blame for it first. "I bet you know that I wish they played Casiopea right now, or I- I’d even forgive them if they played Plastic Love, instead of whatever this is.”

To his surprise, Kenma laughs a little louder than usual. Akaashi is as surprised as he is but says nothing about it, instead gives him a small smile. Kenma drowns the image of him pressing light kisses on the crinkles near the corner of Akaashi’s eyes and forces every nerve of his body to focus on Tetsurou whispering near somebody’s ear instead.

“You would know loud celebrations like these aren’t my first choice of spending my Friday night, either, and yet,” Kenma catches the hitch of Akaashi’s breath, one he has yet to acquaint himself as well. He follows his line of sight and sees Bokuto—who must have been the guy Tetsurou was whispering to earlier—downing three different colors of drinks all at once with metal straws, with Atsumu laughing to his heart’s content on his left while Oikawa tries to shut them up because he’s recording the mess they’re unraveling.

Kenma scoffs, his eyelids getting heavier when he rolls his eyes in disbelief. “You really like him.”

Akaashi looks back at him, an eyebrow raised. “You think?"

“I know so,” He’s starting to slur his words. “Know a lot about you, you said.”

“You still do.” Akaashi softly chuckles. “You’ll always do.”

“Good for me, then.” Kenma huffs, and Akaashi chuckles a little louder.

“Listen, Kozume—” Kenma coughs like the liquor has finally succeeded in burning off his throat. Akaashi stretches out his arm to pat his back, and Kenma hates how they both know it’s instinct at this point thanks to Kenma who used to choke on his drink when he had a borderline unhealthy coffee obsession and Bokuto being… Bokuto.

Kenma interrupts him anyway, stepping back a little more as if there’s any more space to do so. “Kenma. It’s… Kenma,” he whispers, digging his own grave a little deeper.

Akaashi pulls his hand back and fiddles with his glass. “Kenma,” Kenma is nearly lost in the familiarity and the vileness it accompanies, but when Akaashi tries to take a step closer, he looks away. “I’m sorry—”

Kenma interrupts for the second time with a groan. “Heard of that enough. No need for it after how many years.”

“Then how come you haven’t talked to me for how many years?”

The alcohol in his system makes Kenma a little less awake, every noise he’s hearing echoing in his skull. His tongue is heavy and he’s one rational thought away of sliding down and squatting in the corner of his best friend's living room right beside his ex-boyfriend. Who just asked him a question. What is he supposed to answer to that?

“My bad,” he settles with an answer, honest but not vulnerable enough. “My bad, Akaashi,” he repeats a little louder and finds delight in his companion’s widened eyes. “We are friends.”

“Friends do not ghost each other for years, Kenma,” and Kenma laughs, wry, the sound of his name on lips he used to kiss still as sweet, unlike the drink he’s currently craving. “They actually talk to each other and sort their problems out that way. Maybe even hang out once in a while.”

Kenma snatches a drink from a waiter’s tray, only for Akaashi to yank it out of his hands. “You don’t need more of that.”

“Akaashi,” he whines. “Gimme my drink,” and he even adds the pout he used to use against him.

Akaashi doesn’t falter, instead shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Advice from one friend to another. You’ll thank me when you remember.”

 _Even when we're apart, I hope you’ll always remember that you have me, Kenma_. Kenma shakes his head to forget the words etched in the folds of his brain, which makes him lose his balance for a second. “Okay,” he whispers, inching away from Akaashi’s outstretched hand for the second time. “Okay, friend.”

Kenma still thinks that attending this one hellish birthday party is a mistake; still thinks that whatever he says will be difficult to manage once it’s out in the wild and he wakes up with a raging hangover the next day.

And yet, “I’ll attend your wedding.”

Kenma was once the brain of Nekoma, who shut down so many techniques against his team and is a big part of his team's success. With Akaashi, he is reduced to a high-strung amygdala, shame and rationality filtered and turned into a puddle under his feet.

Akaashi tugs his empty glass off his hands and places both glasses on the nearest table. “You sound like you don’t want to?”

“I said I’m going,” Kenma insists, his right foot tapping petulantly and his eyebrows creasing in a way that should be unflattering. Akaashi laughs when he leans back again. “Bad friend.”

“Thank you for blessing us with your presence then,” Akaashi wryly remarks, fiddling with the ring on his left. Kenma glues his eyes on it, swallows the thick lump of defeat and helplessness when the diamond twinkles once the lights hit its surface.

“You’re welcome,” he croaks after what seems to be forever. “I promise you. Won’t break another again.”

Akaashi stops fiddling and meets Kenma’s eyes, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

For the first time that night, Kenma smiles. “Okay, friend.” He says for the second time, still letting the word roll around his tongue while trying not to make a bitter home on the roof of his mouth.

He breaks eye contact and forces himself to spot Bokuto, who seems to be nearly puking his guts out any second now. “Should attend to your,” He tries to not let his voice waver, which instead makes his knees tremble. “Fiancé now.”

Akaashi whips his head to where he’s looking—trying to look, because it’s hard to keep his eyes open now, shit—and releases a heavy exhale while wiping the corners of his eyes. “I’ll be back—” He takes one looks at Kenma’s figure slowly sliding towards the ground and corrects himself. “I’ll tell Kuroo to accompany you home. Stay there.” Kenma could only nod. “I’ll see you around some other time?”

Kenma chuckles, swallowing the bitterness down. “You will.”

The heavy echoing of a new song starts to sound distant. He finally squats down, unstable heavy breathing immediately convincing Tetsurou to obey the promise of going home whenever he wants to, and yet wills himself to stay awake enough to repeatedly shake Tetsurou’s shoulder and insist on putting a reminder on the 30th day of June, despite the hesitation and pain in his best friend’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to haikyuu paramore bot on twitter for giving me this prompt in the first place, and for my best friends kaz and syd aka my biggest enablers and cheerleaders :')


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